Those Nights
by Fyrefly12
Summary: Ok, so this is just a really short piece of writing I've done for a competition in deviantArt, but I thought I would upload it because I like feedback      Enjoy!


Her arms burnt as her back cried out in pain. She gave an exasperated sigh before dumping her load onto the ground. Hunter ran up to her, licking her hand. Tiredly, Fyre leant down and patted his blood-matted head.

"Here will do," she said without looking back.

Even though her party were silent, she heard the sighs of relief going through them. Even Morrigan's bright eyes looked exhausted. They had been marching mercilessly for almost a week. Fyre hadn't allowed them time to stop properly. They ate, slept and walked.

Without bothering to put up her tent, Fyre pulled out four things from her pack. A small package in brown material, a candle, her flint and a rough swath of material.

She gave Leliana a short nod before turning and walking away from the camp.

Hunter didn't follow her. It was as if he knew she needed some time alone. It had been like going to hell and back. The Circle had been nothing but blood, fire and death. She was still covered in sticky, foul-smelling goo.

Pushing bushes apart, Fyre smiled at the sight before her. A small river ran peacefully south. It ran so smoothly that it barely made a sound. She sighed in contentment.

Picking a small patch surrounded by bushes, Fyre stripped from her armour as quick as her buckles would let her. She kicked off her boots and grimaced at how dirty she felt. Lighting her candle on the ground, Fyre picked up the small wick. In the other hand she grabbed the small wrapped package.

Running on her tip toes, Fyre made her way quickly to the edge of the water. She placed the candle in a small dip in the grass. It flickered in the soft breeze, but it was enough to light a small patch of the water. Putting her package down, she sat at the water's edge.

Looking into the water, she saw her shimmering reflection. Her usually pale face was smeared in black and crimson muck. Her usually burning red hair was matted and caked in Maker-knew-what.

Without testing the water, Fyre took a chance.

She jumped.

The water engulfed her like a cold embrace. It danced along her skin, wiping away the darkness that seemed to surround her.

Fyre pushed herself up and penetrated the surface, breathing in deeply. The water was cold, but it cleansed her in more ways than one. She leant back and allowed her hair to absorb the water before she let herself be engulfed once again.

With only her head above the surface, Fyre waddled back to the edge. She unwrapped the small package and smiled. It may have been foolish to allow herself a small luxury, but Maker she didn't care. Dipping the small bar of vanilla scented soap into the water, Fyre lathered up her hands.

Rubbing the bubbles up her arms, on her face, over her body, Fyre felt her mind come back into itself. She was no longer part of the abominations she fought. She no longer held any trace of their presence on her body. She was clean. She was free.

Finally, she rubbed the soap in and around her long hair. Fyre lathered each and every stand until her head was a bubbly mess. She gently moved her fingers along her scalp, lifting every trace of dirt.

Taking a deep breath, she submerged herself into the water. Her hair flowed freely in the water now, and she could already see the brilliance of its colour coming back.

She allowed herself to wash her hair two more times before she felt as if she was properly clean. As she went back to the edge to pull herself out, a sound caught her attention. Turning quickly, she gazed into the darkness.

There was a distant splash downriver.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Fyre lowered her body into the water and let the night cover her. She moved with the current around the small bend until she saw what was causing the noise.

Standing straight, Fyre saw the small candle lighting a tall, muscular back. Her eyes greedily looked over every ripple the movement made on his muscles. Small pink lines curled around his scarred skin as he rubbed the water up and down his body.

Her cheeks prickled as he turned slightly, giving her a view of his rock hard chest. Her heart started to race as he turned completely. She lowered herself deeper into the water so he couldn't see her. But he was too enraptured with cleaning his skin to notice her.

She knew she should go. She should turn around right now, go back to her armour, clean it, and go back to camp. But his glittering skin brought too many emotions to her, too many desires. If this was to be her only chance to see such a magnificent warrior, then she would damn right take it.

Suddenly, his amber eyes opened.

Fyre let out a small squeak. She dunked her head under the water and swam up stream as fast as she could. Paddling and spluttering back to her small crevice in the bushes, she threw water over her candle. The darkness hid her figure, but it couldn't mask the deep chuckle from downstream.

She scowled in his direction even though she knew he couldn't see her.

Pulling herself from the water, she quickly grabbed the rough towel and dried her skin. Tying her hair up in the towel once she was dry, Fyre grabbed her armour, candle and flint before rushing quickly back into the now bright campsite.

Leliana was putting up her small tent. She had taken off her armour and was wearing lose clothing. Morrigan was silently adding some kind of herb to a small pot hanging over a blazing fire. Zevran lay on his back watching the witch. Sten sat quietly away from the camp, examining his hands.

Wynne on the other hand, was heading right towards her. She held a bundle of clothing in her arms. The Elder gave Fyre a polite smile as she passed her.

Fyre nodded quickly, rushing past the bard and the witch.

Thankfully someone had been kind enough to put up her tent up for her. Her pack sat neatly by the flap, along with Hunter. His ears pricked up as he saw her. She smiled at him sheepishly before dumping her armour by her tent. Just as she was about enter the privacy, she heard footsteps.

"Fyre?"

She felt her muscles tense before she slowly turned around.

Alistair watched her with an amused expression. She saw his hair was still wet and his shirt stuck to his still damp chest. She dragged her eyes from his torso long enough to realise he was holding something in his hand.

With a smug smile, his fingers uncurled to reveal a small bar of vanilla soap.

Her eyes widened as her cheeks flared crimson. Reaching forward, she grabbed the soap from him and turned away, opening the flap of her tent. Just as she was about to step in, she heard his footsteps retreating.

Turning her head slightly, she saw his toned backside heading towards the fire. Smiling, she stepped into her tent, shaking her head as his deep chuckle sounded over their small campsite.


End file.
